


Pale Morning Sun

by bitterowl



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterowl/pseuds/bitterowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a lazy morning at Bag End, Pippin doesn't want Merry to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pale Morning Sun

"No-o-o-o, you can still make Brandy Hall by midnight if you stay a little longer."

Merry smiled into Pippin's shoulder, the warmth of his body pressed against him, snug in one of Bag End's soft feather beds. He gave the freckled skin a soft, slow kiss, nuzzling it, breathing him in in a slow, deep breath. Pippin smelled of beer and love-making and pipeweed smoke, but also of something distinctly _Pippin_ that Merry had yet to find anywhere else. It made his chest ache, the idea that he was willingly going to leave it for even a moment. 

"I _know_ you know that's not true," Merry said, though he made no effort to move. "I've wasted most of my morning. I'd be lucky if I made it home by midnight _now_."

Pippin scoffed. " _Wasted_. Is that what you think of me?"

"Pippin, really—" Merry replied hastily, but Pippin just wriggled out of his arms and rolled over to look at him. Quickly, Merry realized his worry was for nothing—Pippin was giving him an exaggerated pout, but his eyes twinkled like the first green leaves of an apple tree in spring, wet with dew and sparkling in the pale morning sunlight.

"You should be nicer to me, after what I did for you last night." Pippin gave him a sour look, trying not to smile. "Immodest, it was. Could've ruined my _entire_ reputation, if anybody found out."

With a chuckle, Merry closed the space between them once again. "Now you're just trying to distract me."

"I'd never," Pippin sassed, pretending to ignore the slowly roughening kisses that Merry had begun to plant all over his neck. "Haven't you got beans to count for your father, back in a dark cellar somewhere? They aren't going to count themselves."

Merry laughed, giving Pippin's neck a little nip, eliciting a trembling gasp from him. "Don't remind me of my responsibilities. Not if you want me to stay."

Pippin squirmed, shaking with silent giggles. "I shouldn't like to waste your precious time, O Heir to Buckland," he said, though his voice had grown thin with quickened breath. "I've only got your best interests at heart."

"I'm sure of it," Merry replied, rolling Pippin onto his back, catching thin wrists with careful hands. "Though, really, traveling at night can be quite dangerous, what with owls and foxes and curious Hobbits running about."

"Oh!" Pippin breathed, as Merry crawled between freckled thighs. He looked up at Merry, cheeks flushed and mouth tugged into an impish smirk. "I suppose I've saved your life then, by being such a bother."

Merry returned his smirk with equal impishness, looking down at him, prone and beautiful among the rumpled bedclothes. "I suppose."

"And I suppose you ought to be thanking me, then," Pippin said, arching his back slowly, hips lifting in a silent, inviting plea.

Merry chuckled, leaning in to give him a quick and hungry kiss. "I suppose that, as well."


End file.
